This is a song about "Self driving cars"

Living with his twisted brother, driving us insane

It's a shameso much pressure on my brain

Run away from the cars...

More props. r.i.p., my poor pops

In this fucking line at ralph's buying granola bars

Bubbling above the elevated tracks and cars

I treat bitches straight up, like simon says

Texting my mama current self

But i don’t mean top 40 hits

Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.

Driving around in a plow, pow!

You ask me who i'm stroking now

Jordan 4 seated floorside sitting with mars

We drive around in million dollar sports cars

A coward dies a thousand deaths

You aint driving a benz